


A Small Price to Pay

by xxenjoy



Series: October prompts 2020 [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Frottage, Gags, Geralt is a little shit, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: Geralt uses unusual tactics to get past a Nilfgaardian camp.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: October prompts 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950757
Comments: 10
Kudos: 364





	A Small Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt **makeshift gag**. I maybe got a little carried away ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

"I cannot and will not." Jaskier puts his foot down - literally and metaphorically - and crosses his arms in Geralt's direction. Geralt just rolls his eyes and sighs at him. 

"Then how do you propose we get past half the Nilfgaardian army?"

He's being ridiculous, of course; a few dozen men hardly constitute _half_ their army, but he does have a point - Jaskier is disappointingly low on ideas. But the idea of being bound and gagged is just... well, it's not detestable but he'd prefer it under very, very different circumstances. 

"We'll just go back. Or wait for them to move on." Geralt glances over to where three men are setting up a tent and quirks an eyebrow at Jaskier. "Oh, I don't know! There has to be _something_ else we can do? Surely we can go around, through-"

"We've been delayed enough already. If we don't make it to Vengerberg in the next three days Yen and Ciri will leave without us."

Jaskier frowns. He does so enjoy travelling with Ciri, but the entire trip to Kaer Morhen without Yen sounds like a dream come true if he's honest. He wants to say as much, but he suspects it won't be taken well. Instead, he just continues to frown at the grass beneath his feet. 

Truthfully, Geralt has a very good reason for not wanting to upset Yen - or to confront the army, to be fair - but has failed to take into account that Jaskier also has a very good reason for not wanting to be tied up. Nor does he seem to care as he rifles through his pack and produces a length of rope short enough to bind Jaskier's hands behind his back. 

"But why does it have to be _me_? They're looking for _you_! I could just say I'm bringing you to them!" He takes a step back as Geralt moves into his space and the look he gets is incredulous.

"And risk both of us getting killed because I can't use my swords? I don't think so." Geralt reaches out to him and Jaskier takes another step back, promptly hitting the trunk of a badly placed tree. 

Realizing he's trapped and Geralt is _smiling_ about it, Jaskier sighs and relents. He turns around reluctantly and Geralt takes his hands, placing one wrist over the other. Under other circumstances, he would revel in this much contact, but right now he just feels defeated and apprehensive. 

It takes all his concentration not to think while Geralt binds his hands. It's bad enough that Geralt is practically holding his hand, rough, calloused fingers curled around his own to steady him, but the _rope_. He doesn't know where it came from, but it's surprisingly smooth against his skin without even the reliably scratchy bits to distract him from the feeling of, well, being entirely at Geralt's mercy. And that- that is something he really can't focus on right now. 

"Is it too tight?" Geralt asks and Jaskier doesn't trust himself to speak so he just shakes his head. "Your heart is beating too quickly, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mutters, staring too hard at his boots. "Nervous," he adds as an afterthought; Geralt won't shut up about it until he gets an answer that satisfies him and sometimes it's better just to lie. 

"Do you trust me?"

 _Fuck_ , what kind of question is that? Trust is not at all the problem here. "Of course," Jaskier whispers and his voice comes out light and wispy, not at all what he was hoping for. But Geralt seems unfazed. 

He finishes his task and returns to their packs. When he returns, he's got a scrap of fabric in his hand and if Jaskier's heart was beating quickly before, it's outright pounding now. Because Jaskier would recognize that fabric anywhere. He's the one who washes and mends their clothes and that right there is a piece of Geralt's unsalvagable shirt and it's not going anywhere near his face - not in a million years. 

He opens his mouth to tell Geralt as much, but he just splutters indignantly as Geralt slips the material between his lips. With his hands bound behind him, Jaskier is helpless to resist. 

"Surely, you've had worse," Geralt mutters and Jaskier doesn't know if he's referring to traumatizing experiences, embarrassment, or bondage but the answer is no almost straight across the board. 

Because this smells like Geralt. And Jaskier doesn't know what he tastes like, but this is probably as close as he'll get, tasting the soap he uses to wash it and something he can't place but feels remarkably like Geralt. A sharp stab of want breaks through his composure and for a horrifying moment, Jaskier wishes the gag was covered in dirt or blood or monster innards. 

"Ready?" Geralt asks and Jaskier just groans. He most certainly is not ready and if he thought pushing down his arousal was hard with his hands bound, it's ten times worse with Geralt's scent flooding his senses. 

Geralt steps away to collect Roach and Jaskier takes a moment to try to breathe and compose. It works for the briefest of moments before Geralt appears out of nowhere, wrapping a firm hand around his bicep and hauling him forward. Heat spreads through Jaskier's entire body and he stumbles to catch up. 

Either he's going to blow it for them because the guard will take one look at him and realize he is in no way a prisoner against his will, or they'll make it through and he'll be horrifically embarrassed for the rest of his life. It's not that he's ashamed of his sexual preferences, he'd just rather not share them quite so blatantly with Geralt. 

As expected, a soldier stops them just as soon as they step out of the trees. Geralt's hand tightens a little around his arm and Jaskier tries to keep as close as he can to him without seeming suspicious. Geralt speaks before the Nilfgaardian even has a chance. 

"I need to speak to your commander," he growls, low and commanding, "this man claims to have knowledge of princess Cirilla's whereabouts." 

He isn't even questioned, the guard just mutters something and Geralt grunts a response and hauls Jaskier forward a little more roughly than necessary. Jaskier's cock twitches and he pretends not to notice as Geralt makes a self-satisfied noise at him. So he was right then. There'll be no living with him after this. 

They make it to the opposite side of the Nilfgaardian camp, a safe distance away and Geralt finally released him, but it's too late for that now. Jaskier's cock has taken a distinct interest, what with the growling and manhandling and bondage that fucking smells like Geralt and is now pressed firmly against the front of his trousers, unmistakable in his current position. 

Jaskier angles himself away from Geralt, and Geralt naturally reads him wrong and slips up behind him to untie the gag. Which is little relief at this point and then, as Geralt presses up against his back, actually so much worse than just keeping it on. Because Jaskier can feel the heat radiating off his body, can imagine what it would feel like if Geralt just took one more step forward and slotted their bodies together. Jaskier bites back a moan, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think of _anything_ else, but then Geralt's hands are on him.

And who touches someone this much just to untie a gag? Someone who seeks Jaskier's imminent death via spontaneous combustion - or, apparently, Geralt. His fingers slip up the back of his neck, press lightly against his head. And if it's not bad enough that he spends an eternity untying the damn thing, he pushes his fingers through Jaskier's hair after before finally stepping away. 

Which, Jaskier quickly discovers, is only because they've been followed. He drops to his knees to further hide his... _situation_ and peers over his shoulder as Geralt strides toward the soldier, apparently unconcerned. 

"What are you doing here?" the Nilfgaardian asks. Geralt cocks his head to one side.

"Nothing. And you're going to go back to your camp and forget you ever saw us here. In fact, you're going to tell your commanding officer the surrounding area is clear, no reason to send out scouts."

Jaskier just sits and gawks, horrified and betrayed, as the man nods and echoes Geralt's words back to him before turning away. 

"Are you-" he splutters when the soldier is a safe distance away, "are you telling me you could have just done that the whole time!?" The faintest smile tugs at the corner of Geralt's lips and Jaskier could kill him. Might, even, if he wasn't still bound. 

Geralt casts a final look to make sure the soldier is gone and crosses over to him. Jaskier shifts, but his mobility is limited without his arms to balance and Geralt crouches down in front of him, clearly pleased with himself. 

"Maybe," he shrugs, reaching up to tip Jaskier's chin up. Jaskier's heart is in his throat and he can't fucking believe this is happening to him. Either Geralt has some very surprising feelings about humiliation or he's a grade-A dick. "But then I wouldn't get to see you like _this_." His voice goes very soft at the end and Jaskier shuts his eyes, biting down on a groan. 

Either Geralt is a very cruel man or somewhere along the way Jaskier passed out from the lack of blood to his brain and he's dreaming. But Geralt's fingers feel solid and real where they slide against his jaw and he's close enough now that Jaskier can feel his breath on his face and _oh_ \- 

Geralt's hand settles on his thigh and Jakier's eyes flash open, searching Geralt's for any sign of hesitation but there's nothing. If he doesn't do something soon, Jaskier's going to do something incredibly stupid that he'll probably regret. He sits back on his heels, pulling out of Geralt's touch and looks up at him. 

"You knew?" he asks. 

"No. I was joking when I said I could tie you up and take you through the camp, but the way you reacted-" he hums and Jaskier's resistance fails him.

Geralt shifts toward him, dropping to one knee as he reaches out, running his fingers down Jaskier's chest. And Jaskier is weak to resist him. He presses up into the touch, only barely conscious of how needy he must look and Geralt huffs a soft laugh. 

"I wanted to see how far you'd let me go," he breathes, "I didn't think you'd actually let me do it."

"You're an arse," Jaskier huffs and Geralt grins at him. 

Jaskier doesn't know what he's supposed to do here. This is a side of Geralt he's never seen before and he's not sure how far he'd actually take it. Geralt moves closer, kneeling between Jaskier's thighs and it's all Jaskier can do not to lose control right there. Geralt's breath dusts over his jaw and Jaskier lets a soft moan slip out as he shuts his eyes. 

"You didn't think I'd just leave you like this, did you?"

Everything in Jaskier's head comes to a screeching halt and before he can even consider whether or not that means what it sounds like it means, Geralt's hands are on his trousers, working them open and slipping inside. Steady fingers curl slowly around him and Jaskier loses control of his body in an instant. A sharp whine slips, unbidden, from his throat and his hips snap forward against Geralt's hand. 

_Fuck_ , he doesn't even remember the last time he was this turned on. 

"What was it," Geralt asks, sliding his hand maddeningly slowly against Jaskier's cock, "that got you so worked up - the rope or the gag?"

"Both," he whimpers, "and the uh- manhandling."

"Hmm. I was just trying to make it seem realistic."

"Mission- _ah_!accomplished." 

Geralt shifts to sit on the grass and with one quick motion gets both arms around Jaskier's waist and tugs him into his lap. Jaskier shuffles forward, encouraged by the way Geralt's hands slip to his ass, squeezing almost playfully. Jaskier tips his head up and Geralt catches his mouth in a rough kiss, nearly dislodging him in his enthusiasm. 

Jaskier's head swims. He's never known Geralt to be so forward with anyone, much less with him, and the thought of it makes him impossibly harder. He aches for Geralt's touch again, rolls his hips forward encouragingly but Geralt's hands remain firmly in place, pulling him in closer. Here, Jaskier is pressed right against him, can feel the firm lines of his chest and the surprising press of Geralt's cock, thick and hard where it fits up against his own. 

"And what about you?" Jaskier tries, feeling much more suave than he sounds, "what's got you so hot and bothered."

One of Geralt's hands slips up his back, right up his neck and into his hair, pulling his face right up against his own. Their noses bump together and Jaskier can feel Geralt's breath against hi, and then they're falling, dropping back into the grass beneath them. 

"Just you," he breathes and Jaskier feels like he could combust. Geralt keeps a hand on him, rocking up against him and _gods_ , he feels incredible. Geralt mumbles something against his lips that Jaskier doesn't quite catch and then Geralt is reaching between them, tugging his trousers open and pushing them down. 

Jaskier rises up as his cock slips free and he finds himself staring, unable to look away. His lip is trapped between his teeth and Geralt reaches up, gently freeing it and running his thumb along the sensitive flesh. Geralt tugs him forward, grinding up against him and Jaskier drops his head against his shoulder, hips shifting quickly. 

"Should I untie you?" Geralt breathes and Jaskier nods enthusiastically, pressing his forehead into Geralt's skin. 

"Please," he groans, "I want to touch you." 

Geralt doesn't move, but reaches around, fumbling with the rope as Jaskier kisses him again. As soon as he's free, he gets one hand on Geralt's face, sliding the other up through his hair, groaning as Geralt rolls him onto his back. 

He should probably be more concerned about the Nilfgaardian camp only a few hundred meters away, but all he can think about is Geralt's cock against his own, his hands, his mouth. 

Jaskier comes with his legs wrapped around Geralt's hips, completely entangled and the sky darkens above them. He doesn't move for a long time afterward and Geralt kisses his neck, slides a hand up under his shirt to brush his fingers over Jaskier's skin. 

When he finally settles, he rolls onto his back, tugging Jaskier up against his side. 

"Yen's gonna be pissed," he mumbles, tipping his head to press a kiss to Jaskier's temple. 

"A small price to pay."


End file.
